


Turnabout

by Tentaculiferous



Series: PMS!Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Menstruation, PMS, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Dean should never not be afflicted with PMS ♥ Sam has to live with him though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnabout

Dean tossed and turned on the bed, curling up his legs, and then stretching them back out seconds later. Nothing alleviated the pain. No matter which way he twisted, flopped, or curled up it remained. He’d been shot before. He’d been stabbed, burned, bludgeoned, and tortured in Hell.

And none of it came even close to the pain of… PMS.

“Aren’t chicks supposed to have higher pain tolerance?” he said, groaning.

There was no one there to answer him. Sam had made the big mistake of asking him

“What’s wrong Dean?”

and Dean had seriously contemplated tearing his head from his Gigantor body and throwing it in the trashcan. And when Sam had tried to talk reason to him

“C’mon Dean, it’s not so bad. It’ll be over in a couple days. Women go through this for most of their lives-”

He had been made to leave.

“GET OUT.”

And something, perhaps Dean’s strained face and seriously pissed off expression, had put logic into Sam’s brain and sent him running out the motel door.

Now Dean was regretting sending him away. He should have to share in this misery. All males should have to share in this misery, if Dean had to go through it. He writhed around for awhile, gritting his teeth and imagining inflicting PMS on Zachariah. He tried putting the pillow over his face, which didn’t help his pain, but was somehow comforting. How had he been ignorant of this terrible, evil, hideous phenomenon for so long? Sure, he knew the birds and the bees (boy did he), but he had always thought women were exaggerating when they called it “The Curse”. Every woman on earth deserved a freakin’ medal for going through this.

Dean pulled the pillow off his face and looked up when the door opened. He didn’t prepare to grab a gun or a knife. If some big nasty was stupid enough to come through that door at this time, Dean would show him what a lady could do.

It was Sam though. Poor Sam. He tossed Dean a bottle of pills out of the brown paper sack he was carrying. Dean turned the bottle around, reading the label.

“Midol? You got me freakin’ Midol? Where’s the Vicodin huh? WHERE‘S THE MORPHINE?!?” he yelled.

“Just take it Dean. It’ll help with your bloating… and stuff.” Sam said, deciding not to elaborate when faced with Dean’s death glare.

Dean shook out four pills and took them.

“Uhhh…” no way was he telling Dean he should only take two. “And I brought you some ice cream!” he said, taking out a tub of vanilla fudge ripple.

“Damn right you got me some ice cream.” Dean said, slightly mollified as he took the spoon Sam handed and began digging in.

Sam flicked on the TV, and the squabble over what to watch, the ice cream, and the Midol all gently erased Dean’s PMS pain like it had never been there.


End file.
